And So We Fight On
Chapter Two
Preach tightened his grip on his rifle, breathing deeply through his nose as Dalton was loaded into the back of the truck. Preach had always been a master at keeping a cool exterior, but inside, his stomach flipped as his lungs tensed in his chest. He'd known Dalton for a long time, and no matter how many friends he'd lost or how many missions were under his belt, it was still excruciating to watch a teammate suffer in the field.
But he knew without a doubt that Dalton would've taken that shot again and again. Anything for the team. Anything for the mission.
And Dalton would swap his own life for Patricia's in an instant.
Preach encouraged Jaz to climb into the truck with Dalton. She tried to hide it, but he could see just how desperate she was to stay close to their injured leader. Their team's most recent loss was still fresh on her mind, and Preach knew it brought her some comfort to be beside Dalton, if only to know he was still alive.
McGuire was already in the truck, double-checking Dalton's IV and wound, but Amir stopped to look Preach directly in the eye, something soft in the dark orbs.
"I know you two are close," he said, just quietly enough to stay between them. Two other men were climbing into the truck, and Patricia and her prisoner were being helped into another. "You should be with Top. I can stay with Director Campbell."
Preach smiled humorlessly. "Thank you." Amir had a good heart; that was probably why Dalton recruited him in the first place. "But we should both ride with the director. Give McGuire and the other medics some room."
Amir pursed his lips in an almost imperceptible show of disagreement and concern, but he nodded anyway, making his way to the second truck as Preach followed.
Sure, Preach was close to Dalton, but the situation was hard on everyone in the team. And it wouldn't be fair if any one of them had to deal with it alone—Amir included.
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There wasn't much he could do at this point. Until they had a sterile operating room and a couple bags of blood, McGuire just had to sit and wait. And the waiting was agonizing.
He looked over Dalton to stare at Jaz, frowning when he saw the subtle pinches of fear in her brave mask. The woman was tough as nails, but the idea of losing a teammate would make anyone panic. And she was holding it together better than he was.
Taking a deep breath, he dropped his eyes back to the gauze around Dalton's shoulder. Dalton shouldn't have gone upstairs on his own. Someone should've been with him. Someone should've had Dalton's back. McGuire should've had his back.
But the rational part of McGuire's brain said that Dalton was more than capable of going it alone in a hostile environment. And truthfully, it had been McGuire's duty to stay with Patricia and the prisoner. With just the two of them, it was only logical that Dalton went on his own.
McGuire closed his eyes, regulating his breathing to chase his guilty thoughts away. He should've taken the time to remove the bullet, time crunch or not. He should've at least stapled the wound shut as soon as it happened to minimize bleeding. Hell, he should've taken the damn bucket from Dalton and marked the wall instead.
Then again, hindsight was always twenty-twenty.
He opened his eyes again, his gaze falling on Dalton's pale face. The other medics were talking quietly among themselves, one speaking quickly into a radio. Unsure of what to do, he clasped Dalton's wrist, checking the faintly beating pulse for the hundredth time.
"It's not your fault."
McGuire glanced up at Jaz, only to look back down in guilt.
"It's just part of the job," she continued, her voice strong but kind. "We know the risks. Top knows the risks." McGuire pressed his lips together, staring down at that damn gauze.
"You did everything you could in the time you had."
He shook his head. "I could've done more."
"You couldn't have."
He looked up, his brow furrowed.
"It was a tight timeframe. And no matter what happens, our first priority is the mission." Her eyes bore into his, unrelenting but supportive. "I know you, McG. And I know you did what you could in the time you had."
His throat tightened with emotion, and he swallowed to try and chase it away. She was right. He did what he could.
He did everything he could.
"Thank you," he croaked, clearing his throat.
She smiled faintly. "Don't sweat it. Top would've said the same thing."
He let out a quiet huff of laughter, smirking.
Yeah, he would've.
The two of them sat in silence for the next several minutes, McGuire keeping his fingers on Dalton's wrist to feel the wild thrum of a heartbeat. Dalton's heart was pumping hard to push blood through his veins, and while it wasn't ideal, it wasn't worrisome enough to send McGuire into a panic.
Jaz kept her eyes on McGuire, reading his face for any sign of bad news. For now, he looked relatively calm, and that gave her some comfort. But Dalton's pale, slack face was hard to look past, and no matter how calm McGuire was, she was going to feel that concrete ball of fear in her chest until Dalton was well on the road to recovery.
This wasn't Dalton's first injury. Hell, with how many risks he took, it was a miracle he was still in one piece. But with every bleed or bruise, he'd hop to his feet and push on. Most of the time, injury was just a hiccup in his plan.
This was more than a hiccup.
He'd looked half dead in the Humvee. When his head started to dip to his chest, she knew this was beyond just some blood on his sleeve. But there hadn't been time, and the RPGs and bullets were raining down on them in an instant.
Slowly, she moved to clasp a hand around Dalton's forearm, if only to make sure he was still alive and warm. He was cooler than she expected, but if McGuire wasn't worried about it, there was no reason she should be.
Still, easier said than done.
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The truck slowed to a stop as the medic moved to check on Nate, the prisoner. Patricia sighed. They must've arrived at their destination. She hadn't felt this shitty since…since she'd been informed of her son's death. Right now, Nate was her priority, but her mind was with Dalton.
She knew that Dalton and his team would complete the mission by whatever means necessary, and she'd used that to get the right information out of Nate. Luckily, the team had enough time to get away from the strike, but she would never forget seeing McGuire flip over the bloody, unconscious team leader. Dalton was so pale. He looked so exhausted. And all she could think was that he'd been injured in the field and had to push past the pain and the blood loss to get the job done. That he had to risk his own health and survival for her sake.
Nate was getting carted out of the back of the truck, and she mustered up enough energy to follow. As she climbed out, she glanced back at Preach and Amir, only to be greeted by tired, reassuring smiles. They'd been through this too many times with too many teammates and colleagues. And they could still offer a smile.
Patricia turned away, dropping down to the dirt before she straightened her back and stood taller. Even in a time like this, she had to be strong. It was just who she was.
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It had been almost twenty-four hours. No one had slept. Hardly anyone ate, and what they did eat was small and dismal. Instant coffee pumped through their veins, urging them to stay alert and keep watch.
McGuire kept reassuring them that they just had to let Top's body heal on its own, but the anxious itch of concern lingered, and they waited impatiently. Dalton was a heavy sleeper as it was, but the fact that he hadn't moved a millimeter in nearly twenty-four hours was worrying.
Patricia was still sitting with Nate, keeping watch over him as he slept on in another room. The team had settled wherever they could in Dalton's room, scattered but cramped.
Jaz sat in a chair by Dalton's bed, chewing furiously at her nails as she stared at the heartrate monitor. She hated waiting, and this was the most agonizing wait of her life. Preach stood behind her in the corner, still as a statue. She could only imagine what he was thinking. He was incredibly adept at keeping calm, even in the most upsetting situations. Truthfully, he was probably the one keeping the rest of them sane and even-keeled.
Jaz pulled her nails from her mouth, clenching her hands into fists on her lap. McGuire had just stood up from his seat, making a move to check Dalton's wound and condition.
"I thought that was the doc's job," Jaz muttered, a hint of bitterness in her voice.
"Well, he hasn't come around in a few hours, and Top's temp is looking a little high."
Jaz stiffened at that, eyes searching for a temperature on the monitor. Just over one-hundred.
"Infection?" Amir asked, shifting in his own seat.
"Maybe," McGuire huffed, pulling gingerly at the bandaging. After they'd arrived, Dalton was taken to surgery to ensure there weren't any bullet fragments or other debris in the wound before it was cleanly stitched. But the team had forgotten that infection was still a possibility.
McGuire lifted the bandaging a bit more and inspected the wound. After several long seconds, he pressed the gauze back in place and shook his head. "Someone should get the doctor."
Amir was up and out the door before anyone had the chance to verbally volunteer.
"What does an infection mean? Will he be alright?" Jaz asked worriedly, large eyes boring into McGuire. Preach moved to stand beside her.
"If it is an infection, they'll just start him on antibiotics. And if we caught it early, he should be fine," McGuire replied, his voice even and low. Jaz thought he looked more than a little worse for wear. She pressed her lips together in concern as McGuire continued. "If treatment goes smoothly, it shouldn't affect his recovery all that much."
Preach breathed deeply, nodding. "Thanks, McG."
Jaz stared up at McGuire, tracing the tired lines in his face. "Maybe you should get some sleep. We can wake you up if anything changes."
He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. "No, I want to stay here with Top. Make sure he's okay."
"You look like hell," Jaz stated bluntly, her brow furrowing. "I get that you want to stay with Top. We all do. But you need some sleep. You need to take care of yourself."
His eyebrows rose. "I could say the same for any of you."
Preach stepped forward, his hands up in a placating gesture. "Alright, you don't have to leave," he sighed. "Stay in the room, but at least try to get a little shuteye."
McGuire stood still for a moment, then deflated. He looked years older, worn down by the harrowing events of the last day. "Yeah, okay," he muttered, rubbing at his eyes. He moved to take a seat, but stopped when he heard footsteps coming down the hall.
A doctor shoved his way through the door, Amir right on his heels. Without a word, he checked the monitor and took his own look under the gauze. He turned to McGuire, his eyes sharp. "Nice catch. We'll get him started on antibiotics right away." He glanced between Amir and McGuire. "You were right to get me. I'll send a nurse in immediately."
With a look at the rest of the team and a comforting hand on McGuire's shoulder, he breezed out of the room again, walking quickly down the hall to find a nurse. The team stared at the door for a minute at the doc's sudden absence, trying to sort their thoughts. Jaz was the first to speak.
"Does that mean we caught the infection early?"
McGuire sighed slowly, dropping into his seat. "I would say so."
The four of them were silent for several minutes, Amir finally moving to sit back in his chair. Preach retreated to his quiet corner.
With a purse of her lips, Jaz folded her arms, settling in for however long she had to. Didn't matter if it was minutes or hours, she was prepared to keep watch indefinitely. Her eyes wandered to McGuire. "Get some sleep, McG."
He nodded as he sank further in his seat, letting his head rest against the back of the chair. His eyes watched the ceiling for a long while, and the silence pressed against them as they waited. The nurse came and went, hooking up antibiotics and redressing Dalton's wound. Through it all, not one of them said a word. Not one of them felt the need to.
And as the minutes ticked by, McGuire finally fell into a shallow sleep, settled awkwardly in his chair.
All they could do was wait.
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Amir was exhausted. The whole team was. And after some aggressive coaxing, he managed to convince Jaz and Preach to rest a little and take a power nap. Amir had managed to get a little sleep of his own in the last few hours, and McGuire was already snoozing again, the hectic events of the last couple of days catching up to him.
It meant the world to Amir that they trusted him enough to keep watch. Alone. But it meant more to him that he could this for them. He respected Dalton. He really did. And Amir was worn down with worry. Still, as much as all this affected him, it seemed to cut deeper for the rest of the team. Watching them all suffer so much…it was hard to stomach, and he was happy that he could offer them some reprieve.
With a quiet sigh, he folded up a fresh cloth and started sponging sweat off Dalton's hairline. His fever broke sometime in the quiet hours of the morning, helping them all relax just a little. The doctor expected only a smooth recovery from here.
It was nice to have a little peace.
Amir turned when he heard the soft squeak of the door. Patricia peeked her head in, her blonde hair tousled. "Have room for another?" she whispered smoothly. She'd been by once before, but couldn't stay long since the prisoner wasn't exactly in the best shape.
He smiled a little, gesturing for her to come in. She moved to stand beside him, her arms folded as she took Dalton in. "He's starting to look better."
Amir nodded, blotting more perspiration from Dalton's brow. "How's the prisoner?"
"Nate's stable and well on the road to recovery," she reported. Amir heard something in the stiffness of her voice. She had a soft spot for Nate, despite his past. The ex-spy bit back a smirk. Patricia stood tall and tough, but she cared about people. That's part of why she was so good at her job. That's part of why they were all good at their jobs.
She sat on the edge of the bed, careful and slow.
"How's the team holding up?" she asked, her eyes still on Dalton.
Amir shrugged. "Better now." He set the cloth aside, glancing around at his teammates. "They're still worried but not as restless."
"How are you doing?"
Amir looked up at that. Frankly, he was surprised she would ask. Not that he didn't think she would care. Of course she would care. It was just…unexpected. He was the new guy. And over the comms, her focus and attention was mostly on Dalton and the team as a whole. If he was called out directly, it was usually for a specific command. So Amir just figured that the individual wellbeing of team members was more Dalton's concern.
"I'm fine," he mumbled pathetically.
She leveled a look at him, as if daring him to do better.
"I'm tired," he admitted. "And I just want this all to be over."
Patricia nodded, offering a small smile of comfort. "It will be soon. Dalton's not one to give up on a fight."
At her reassurance, Amir could feel the knot in his chest loosen a little. He didn't realize how much he needed someone to say it. Someone he trusted that meant it. Someone who wasn't just saying it to convince themselves.
He looked at his feet. "Thank you."
Jaz stirred on the other side of Dalton, taking a deep breath as she squeezed her eyes shut tighter. Patricia smiled, slipping off her perch on the bed.
Maybe it was time the team got some real sleep.
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Patricia mopped some of the sweat off Dalton's forehead, her lips pursed as her eyes roved over his still face. She'd finally convinced the team to rest, but it had taken the better part of an hour to do it.
Honestly, she should've flown back home as soon as Nate was stable, but she wanted to be here for her team. For Adam. Caring for the team in person was a rare occasion, and she couldn't pass it up. It was often difficult to watch them risk their lives an ocean away, and this helped put her own unease at rest.
She gently dabbed the cloth against his forehead, a touch anxious in the silence of the room. It had been a trying couple of days, but Dalton was recovering well.
Still, he hadn't woken up yet, and that set everyone on edge.
Including Patricia.
She released a heavy sigh, sitting back in her chair while she stared at the bandaging around his shoulder. This was supposed to be a pretty simple mission. Go in, interrogate the prisoner, and get out. To think that of all the jobs, this was the one that nearly cost her a team leader and a friend…the thought made her sick. But this was their job. Their life. And the only thing that helped Patricia through it was thinking about how many lives they had saved over the years.
It was exhausting. But to be honest, she wouldn't even think of working any other job.
Patricia sighed, then stopped suddenly at a small noise. She strained her ears, wondering vaguely if it was her imagination.
A faint groan drifted from Dalton's lips. She sat up straighter in her seat, watching Dalton closely. His brow furrowed. His lips pursed.
And Patricia couldn't help but smile.
Bleary blue eyes blinked into consciousness, slowly shifting around the room as they grew sharper and sharper. It only took a matter of seconds before they fell on Patricia.
A small smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. "Since you're still in one piece…" he croaked, "I take it you got what you needed."
Her smile widened and she dipped her head in a slow affirmative. "He told me just before the strike. And before you ask, the rest of the team is safe and healthy." There was a beat of silence as she let his relief sink in. "You, on the other hand, took a bit of a beating."
"I'm fine," he muttered quickly, attempting to dismiss her concern.
"Dalton," she said sternly, watching his still-pale face. "You took a hit and proceeded to operate with the bullet still in your shoulder. Some would call that reckless." He gingerly pushed himself up to a more upright position, not saying a word. Patricia wondered if she should stop him from moving at all, but figured it wouldn't matter. She continued. "You passed out on the field and haven't been conscious for two days." He looked up at that, his expression hardening.
"Two days? Shouldn't you already be in the states?"
She smiled, breathing deeply. "I decided to stay a few more days. To make sure you were alright."
There was another pull at the corner of his mouth. "I appreciate that."
"Well, I'd hate to lose my team leader." They both smirked at that.
After a minute of comfortable silence, Patricia stood up, smoothing out her pants. "I'm happy to see you finally awake, but I think it's time I take our prisoner back home." She sighed, putting her hands on her hips. "I'll send your team in. Take it easy for a while, and be sure to update me when you can."
He nodded shallowly. "Will do." He knew she would stay longer if she could justify it, but she was probably already pushing it as it was.
Patricia reached forward to grasp his good shoulder in a friendly gesture. "Take care, Dalton." With one last small smile, she turned to leave the room, already pulling out a sat phone to make a call.
Dalton watched her go, smirking. And some would say she didn't care.
He gingerly rested a hand on his bandaged shoulder, feeling groggy and sore. It wasn't exactly an unfamiliar feeling. Most missions ended with a long slumber and a handful of scrapes and bruises.
Taking a deep breath, his mind drifted to his team. He vaguely remembered being cornered by their pursuers, surrounded by gunfire and small explosives. Adam couldn't remember how it had ended, and while Patricia had assured him that his team was alive and well, he couldn't help but worry about them.
The door opened, and he turned his head to see Jaz's face first.
"Hey, Top," she greeted, her smile almost too wide. The rest of the team milled in behind her, enthusiastically offering their own greetings.
Damn, they looked so tired.
But other than a minor scratch or purpling skin, they seemed okay. Relief washed through Adam, his concern drifting away as they crowded around his bed.
"Good to see you awake," Preach said, folding his arms at the end of the bed, Amir standing quietly beside him. Jaz slipped into a seat next to Adam, her eyes alight as her grin faded to a small smile.
McG stood on the other side, hands in his pockets. "You had us worried there for a minute," he muttered.
Adam smiled, looking between each team member. "Well, you know me. Can't get rid of me that easily." A relieved laughter filled the room, an emotional, optimistic charge in the air.
The team was all right.
That's all that mattered now.
That's all that mattered to Adam.
Fin.